


the stars are not lost (but waiting to find us)

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, But really just Thorin trying hard and Kíli digging it, Dragon Sickness, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Gen, Like if you squint real hard then maybe some romantic mutual pining, Protective Asshole™ Thorin, Sibling Rivalry, Travel, Uncle Thorin, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Thorin Oakenshield values gold and gems, but he values his nephews, especially his youngest, over that – or so he has always thought.All he knows for certain is that Kíli deserves better than what he can offer.
Relationships: Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Oakenshield, Kíli & Thorin Oakenshield
Kudos: 7





	the stars are not lost (but waiting to find us)

It turned out to be a dark night in which the message reached Thorin Oakenshield, a night of the kind any creature, be it dwarf or man or elf, rather spent in the comfort of a home and hearth than in the wilderness beyond the mountains.

The rapping at his door was what pulled his head from gloomy thoughts that so unfailingly troubled him by light of day and shadow of evening. Thorin's every limb felt heavy like lead had replaced the warm blood in his veins, yet he rose to his feet and went so he could answer to the knock.

It was a good knock, firm and lacking all urgency but the haste of excitement, one that promised pleasant news.

The hinges creaked softly. There, just outside, stood a dwarf, hood and cloak billowing in the breeze that sang the hills and mountains to sleep for the night. In his hand, he held a letter of parchment and upon it was one drop of crimson wax emblazoned with a seal. The edges were singed. Behind the messenger, a sturdy pony kept pawing the earth and clouds of white rose from its nostrils and damp fur. It must have been running for quite a stretch.

"Derin, at your service," said the dwarf and bowed deeply. "With speed I was sent from your sister, Dís, to bring news about the birth of her second son."

Thorin accepted the letter with a slight tilt of his head himself. His mind had been with his sister for so long now – with her and little Fíli and the unborn child. The floorboards squeaked and moaned at his pacing, although one would think they should be used to the master of the house wandering about at nighttime.

Only sharp ears would have picked up the noise of the wax seal breaking, but it would have taken even sharper eyes to see the ghost of a smile on Thorin's face that was so shrouded in shadows from the flickering and crackling fire. Where the shine of the flames fell upon the parchment bloomed words of joy and that was the reason for the dwarf to smile.

Another sister-son, he thought and folded the letter to neatly put it on the table where he had just sat before.

Thorin lit the wicks of his lamps. Sleep rarely made itself at home in his modest quarters and now, he had a task, one that did excuse the emptiness of his bed at such late hour of night. With nimble, clever fingers, he worked and worked well into the twilight of dawn, until the oil in the lamps had burned up, his hands were sore and wearied from labor and his head felt as if he carried a boulder on his neck instead.

Yet none of this disheartened Thorin and so he continued until upon the wooden table stood, as sweet and dainty as only could be crafted from dwarven hand, a horse. It blinked and glinted with its coat of silver, mane of gold and the precious gems it had received for eyes.

Still, the master sat brooding over his creation and he looked from the toy to the letter telling him about the second sister-son he had been graced with.

The horse seemed him such a foolish present just now.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

Many moons and many a year passed before Thorin arrived at Dís' dwellings, but when he stood upon the threshold, Fíli came running and wrapped his little arms around his uncle's leg. His eyes were alight with joy as he waved to another little dwarven boy who sat by the fire with his mother.

"Kíli! Come!" he called out while Thorin rather awkwardly petted his head.

"It is alright," he said to his nephew with the golden hair. "I am glad to see you well, Fíli. Have you been good to your mother while I was away?"

The boy nodded vigorously in approval and he all but dragged Thorin well into the sitting room where Dís rose to welcome her older brother. Only the little dwarf hiding behind her skirts had not yet said a word. Not until Thorin crouched and held one hand to his chest in greeting.

"Hello, Kíli sister-son. My name is Thorin Oakenshield, at you and your family's service," he said very earnestly, and the boy giggled and his face peered out just a bit more. He had hair curly and dark, shimmering as tourmaline, his eyes as soft as silk, not much unlike the ones of a fawn.

"I have something for you." Thorin reached into the folds of his cloak to haul the leather bag from his belt where he kept the toy he had fashioned years ago. The little horse still glistened and twinkled in his palm. It's spark reflected brightly in Kíli's gorgeous eyes and he reached out his small hands only hesitantly to take the present.

"Is this really for me?" he asked with wondrous face, but Thorin just bowed his head.

"It is yours."

His gaze fell upon the white wrappings of cloth that covered the little boy's leg up and down. His dark, bushy brows furrowed with quiet anger. Thorin raised his eyes to Dís, who stood off to the side by the table where she had just set down a plate and a jug of mead.

"What happened to him?" he asked in a grim voice and motioned to his nephew.

Dís looked at him sadly.

"When they were at play in the woods some time ago, wolves attacked them. Fíli was quick to slay a few of the beasts and the men heard his shouting and rushed to his aid, but before that, one of the wolves had already gotten hold of Kíli. There have been many alike onslaughts lately. The goblins and wolves are getting restless in these parts."

Thorin gnashed and ground his teeth with bitterness, but he turned to Fíli instead and pulled something else from his bag.

"You too shall have a present, Fíli wolf-slayer," he said and held out the small sword that hung from a black belt of soft buckskin and girded his nephew with the weapon. While the boys played with their new toys, Thorin sat down and reached for the food his sister had served up for him, but ceaselessly, his eyes remained on the two children, especially on little Kíli and his injured leg.

The world was cruel, cold and gruesome, too much of that for such a cheerful boy with eyes so beautiful and Thorin would've paid all his gold and gemstones to keep the life of his sister-sons free of all evil.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

"Take them hunting," pleaded Dís on the fourth night of Thorin's stay when he had just come in for dinner. "Teach them as best you can and your time will allow."

Fíli and Kíli were fast asleep on their beds, their faces were turned to one other like every evening when they were sent to rest. Thorin sat on the little chair near the fireplace from where he watched the children closely. So innocent they seemed in their slumber, as if this bitter world had not yet tainted their hearts. Almost, Thorin felt inclined to be envious of their peaceful thoughts.

"I can be a king, and I can be a warrior," he said in a hoarse voice that was like the low rumble of thunder in a faraway storm, "I can be a leader, a traveler, and I can be a fighter. But I cannot be a father. I am not here to teach two dwarflings of such young age. They should be concerned not with hunting but with play and merrymaking."

He lit his pipe, raised it to take a deep breath of smoke and did not let his gaze fall back upon his sister. Instead, Thorin laid his hand upon Kíli's little head and stroked his hair. The boy opened his eyes and peered through long, dark lashes up at the great man who sat above him, appearing like a statue of a mighty hero from far and forgotten times. He did not speak, however, just closed his eyes once more.

When the fire was burnt down to a simmering ember and the room was bathed in darkness, two pairs of eyes were left wide open. As quiet as they could, appearing only as a set of shadows in the dim glow the red remainders of the fire cast upon the walls, Fíli and Kíli slipped from their beds. Held firmly in their little hands were knives and by Fíli's side swung the precious sword Thorin had presented him with.

Just as with a low creak they opened the front door, a voice, dark and deep, spoke from the corner of the room.

_The day he left in secrecy_  
_To abandon tribe and throne_  
_His soul cried freedom from within_  
_Today he looks on grievously_  
_When clouds all move to what was home_  
_And show the way to him_

_Every sunbeam takes his mind_  
_To the valley whence he came_  
_To his people full of pride_  
_And his father, who in kind_  
_Words told him that any tame_  
_Eagle one day will take flight_

_Young eagles always seek their liberty_  
_And young eagles will soar high_  
_Be as proud as they can be_  
_But remember that in time_  
_Only honesty brings peace_

_But his freedom only lies_  
_Where his soul dwelled as a child_  
_With his kindred, far away_  
_For the place his heart but cries_  
_Behind the mountains and the wild_  
_Where to rest his mind he'll lay_

Thorin slowly rose from his chair and looked upon his nephews who had listened with wide eyes.

"Now, where are my two young eagles off to this late at night?" he asked and his smile was so soft and gentle that they could not help but confess.

"To the woods," said Fíli, "where we train at night. Mother is not fond of seeing us with our weapons."

Thorin thought for a long while, but then he bowed down and took little Kíli upon his strong shoulders where he held him steady and nodded down at Fíli.

"Off we go then. Lead the way, Fíli wolf-slayer."

He could not believe even with the injured leg, the dwarfling had gone with his brother to train his weaponry. It was a rotten world that made such young people touch a sword, a knife, a bow.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

The rows of blinking teeth that very nearly slashed open Kíli's throat were just so turned away by a roar and the great weight of a studded axe upon the goblin's ugly head. With bulging eyes, the beast collapsed upon the young dwarf.

Gasping and moaning, Kíli scrambled from beneath the stinking corpse and looked up at his uncle who stood above him. His breath came in fast, shallow heaves.

"Back to the village, you foolish boy!" cried Thorin and shattered another approaching goblin's skull. "Go back! Go back!"

In one hand, he wielded the mighty axe, in the other a white blade. After him and into the goblin hoard came rushing the warriors, carrying flaming torches, all armed and alight with anger, but nobody slew as many as Thorin. Like a beast he tore through the goblins, howling with the blind rage of a wounded animal.

"Not my nephew!" he screamed and drove his sword deep into the heart of a large captain. The goblin shrieked in agony, but Thorin turned and twisted the blade without mercy. "By Durin, come and try to take him! I will spear your heads in a neat row! Come you vermin, you cowards, you maggots!"

Steaming black blood was spattered on his clothes, his face and hair, but his eyes were gleaming with fever and the goblins seemed to fall by every strike of his axe and sword until the remaining beasts fled back into the woods whence they'd come from, wailing and whimpering like a pack of dogs.

Only when even the last was out of reach, Thorin lowered his weapons and towered, breathing heavily, over his nephew, who now stood aside and shunned the glare he was being given. Thorin struck him hard across the face and did not miss a second before he pulled Kíli to his chest and tightly squeezed his shoulder as their foreheads touched.

"Foolish boy," he said in a low voice, but there was no anger in it any longer, only relief and sweet tenderness. His hand was trembling beneath the glove of leather that rested heavily on Kíli's arm. "What madness made you leave home in the dead of night alone? We found you missing just in time."

A rough shove met his words and Kíli turned as not to face his uncle. He picked up his sword from the soft and rotting leaves on the forest grounds, cleaned and sheathed it and stood with hanging shoulders until one of the men touched his shoulder to guide him back onto the path. Thorin walked only a short distance behind him.

"At least why did you not tell Fíli?" he demanded to know. His voice had returned to its usual dark growl. Kíli spun and his hair billowed like a curtain of flowing silk around his fair face, but his eyes were hurt and dull.

"Fíli, Fíli! He is the only one you ever bother with, no? The older, the stronger, the wiser, the quicker! I can fight too! I can learn too! But you don't teach me! I hate you, Thorin, I hate you!"

And he stormed to the front of the procession with his head held high and long, proud strides that everyone had to try hard and keep up.

Yet when Thorin later opened his eyes in the darkness of their chambers, he looked upon Kíli who slept as close to the edge of his bed as it would allow, turned towards his uncle even as he dreamt. Long laid the king awake that night, thinking of those words, but in the end, he only sighed. Every single one was true.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

The cold left even dwarven bones frail and prone to shattering, but Thorin saddled his pony without heeding the freezing nightly air. The beast was sturdy, faithful and brave in battle. He patted the strong neck and stepped into the stirrups. On the back of the pony were tied bags of food and a small pouch with golden coins was secured tightly to the dwarf's belt. He knew not how long the journey to this faraway land Gandalf had called The Shire would last.

Not far had they gotten on the road when suddenly, Thorin halted his pony. It snorted softly and swayed its tail while the dark, hooded rider looked about. At last, the shadows he had heard rustling behind a grove of trees moved again.

"Trees do not whisper or I am mistaken," said Thorin in a loud voice and already he held the handle of his sword tightly. "So come forth and make yourself known in peace!" His sharp eyes moved across the swaying darkness to seek for the source of the muttering no doubt he'd heard just now.

"You hopeless chatterbox!" a voice hissed and out stepped two dark figures.

"Me? You and your hair, I would think! It glows like a beacon in the night!"

Thorin heaved a sigh and once more sheathed his blade.

"Kíli. Fíli."

There they stood, clad in traveling gear, leading two ponies behind them, and they looked like children caught stealing from a neighbor's cherry tree. Not one of them met Thorin's stern gaze as he turned his pony and came towards them slowly.

"You must turn back," the great dwarf said. "Where I am going there is no place for the two of you."

Fíli said, "But are you not going to reclaim what is our home? Are you not going to bring back Erebor for our kin? And are we not your heirs, sons of Durin as much as you are? Are we not in the right to follow you and help you on your quest?"

Thorin looked down upon their fair faces, their trusting eyes, their determined gazes, but then he dismounted his steed and raised one hand in direction of the village.

"Return to your mother. I will not bear fault for anything that may happen to you. Yes, you are my heirs, and that is why I will only bring you to Erebor when I know there is no danger any longer."

He spoke with the same passion he would have spoken to his own children with, and as he saw tears rising into Kíli's eyes, Thorin had to turn his head in shame. It was not his right but his duty to refuse them.

"I will not go!" The loud cry was followed by two arms tightly wound around Thorin's neck and there Kíli stood, with silver tears streaming down his face as he laid his forehead against his uncle's. "I will not let you leave all on your own to a quest we do not know you'll survive! Thorin, take us with you, I beg of you!"

There Thorin stood now and he took Kíli's face into his hands and kissed him and he did the same to Fíli. His voice was heavy and rough, for he was so moved by his nephew's loyalty.

"So be it, Fíli and Kíli sister-sons. I could not ask for more faithful companions on my journey."

Even as he said this, he felt bad as he saw them mount their ponies and ride on through the night with him. Fíli was holding up well, yet many hours into the journey, Kíli yawned and rubbed his eyes, but the only bed they had were their hard saddles. Thorin spurred his pony until it trotted up to the one of his nephew and took the reins.

"Sleep," he demanded firmly. "I will lead your pony."

Without protest, Kíli leaned forward and laid his cheek on the shaggy mane while Thorin watched him sleep and sinister shadows clouded his mind.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

Rainwater poured and pounded onto Thorin's hood and cloak and he was soaked to the bone, as was his pony and the rest of the company. Behind him, he heard Dwalin mutter curses into his wet beard. Bilbo had sunken down onto the neck of his own mount and he looked small and miserable there, but Thorin did not yet want to make camp for the night.

Just a bit further, he said to himself every now and then when his clammy fingers began to ache again horribly or an especially cold trickle of water ran down his nose, but when the first thunder crashed afar, not even Thorin could will himself forward any longer and swung one leg over the pony's back.

"We're stopping for the day. Get to preparing supper," he grumbled, knowing very well that there was little left to prepare supper with, but everyone seemed to be relieved either way.

While Oin and Gloin were huddled around a small pile of damp branches – the driest they could find, Bofur said with a helpless shrug – and tried to get a fire started so at least the night air would be a bit more bearable, Kíli and Fíli tended to the ponies and herded them together beneath the trees as best they could. Thorin sat off to the side on a stone, crossed his arms and wondered where Gandalf had gone.

His thoughts were thrown over and under when a shrill whinny came from the side and one of the ponies rushed towards the riverside in sheer panic.

"Hold it!" cried Fíli but there was nobody who reached for the reins and so Kíli sprang after it into the rushing waters.

His hand tightly clasped the bridle and he gasped and spluttered helplessly in the swirling stream when Fíli waded in a bit and held out his hand to grasp the brother's cloak or belt and pull him and the pony back to shore. Behind him came running Thorin and Dwalin and they tossed ropes into the water for Kíli to grasp.

"Hold on, boy!" Thorin yelled, but fear had gripped at his heart with cold fingers as he watched Kíli scramble for the rope, still clinging to his pony. The hemp slipped and slipped from his hands, he could just not get a good grip on it and his strength waned fast in the icy water.

Just as his head began to sink underwater, Dwalin cursed, wound a rope tightly around his belt and threw the end to Thorin and then he jumped to save the youngest of their company. Splashing and panting, he reached Kíli at last and pulled him tightly onto his arm. By the shore, Thorin and Bombur and Bofur and Bifur hauled in the rope to get them out and finally there they climbed from the dark water, sodden and shaking but with the pony in tow.

"Kíli," Thorin said with great worry and pulled him into his arms to wrap his cloak around them both, for it was the finest and warmest, lined with fur and very soft. Shivering and trembling, Kíli pressed against the strong body of his uncle, only now starting to feel his limbs again. "A fire, quick!" yelled Thorin and led the young dwarf back up the steep shore. All the while he kept his cloak wound around Kíli, who still shook pitifully in the cold air.

All manners of coats and blankets that had stayed dry the most in their baggage were piled now onto Kíli and Fíli and Dwalin, but Thorin did not once leave his nephew's side. The boy was curled into his side where wind and rain were bearable and his eyes were fluttering in exhaustion.

"I was almost drowned, Uncle," he muttered deliriously. Thorin stroked his hair. Kíli had not called him uncle ever since his thirtieth birthday.

"I would never let that happen. Just you close your eyes and sleep a bit. It will be warmer soon."

Desperate as to where they could get a fire from in this rain, Thorin looked about and there, behind the treetops, he spotted a red, warm glow.

Finally, a job befitting the burglar, he thought grimly. If there had ever been need for one, it was now that his nephew threatened to fall ill in the cold.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

The dark of the goblin holes was disgusting and Thorin could barely see ahead more than what it took to spot Gandalf's robe billowing before him as he led them through the halls and deeper and deeper into the cold underbelly of the mountains.

"Rotten beasts," he muttered and swore along the way, stumbling and tripping over his own feet and shackles. The air around them was thick and heavy, barely breathable from smoke and goblin stench, but they hurried on and on not only in hopes of escaping but also in finding cleaner air.

Behind them they could hear the gruesome beasts closing in, yapping like dogs who are sent to hunt, when finally Gandalf rounded a sharp corner and pulled Thorin to his side.

"As long as the others are bound and we have no time to pass knives so they may rid themselves of their shackles, we both must defend them best we can," he said and Glamdring cut through the rope that tied the great dwarf's hands as if it were molten butter.

Then Orcrist was passed to him and Thorin readied himself to fight along with the wizard once more. His only glimpse back was to where Fíli and Kíli stood behind Dwalin to whom he nodded in solemn gratitude. If anyone must fall in those forsaken goblin holes, then Thorin did not want it to be his nephews. Glamdring and Orcrist shone side by side through the dark and the blue light burst into the torches the goblins carried around the corner.

There was a tremendous turmoil for a moment as the beasts aimed to make sense of the ambush, but Thorin already leapt forward and beheaded the first goblin with a cry of "Durin! Durin!" and it rang from the walls so wildly that the ugly creatures fled howling and crying back to their halls.

"They will not be frightened forever. Come, make haste!" Gandalf urged and one by one they trotted off again, first the dwarves and then Bilbo.

Not soon into their march did Dori have to pick him up and carry him though for he could not keep pace. So they went ahead, led by Gandalf through winding tunnels and halls and not just one of them wondered how the wizard knew the way, but trust in a leader is not discretionary when hoards of goblin are behind and only forward lies possible refuge.

Just as Thorin thought them safe came the attack from behind, silent and fast, but so were Orcrist and Glamdring. Thick black blood smudged their blades and dulled their blue shine while all around them the dwarves cried and yelled and tried to beat the assailants back with what strength they had left in arms and fists.

A white flash filled the tunnel and Gandalf yelled, "Follow me! Come, come, fast now!"

And follow him they did, swift and eager in the darkness, leaving the goblins blind and screeching and grabbing at eachother in pursuit of the dwarves. There they burst into a room filled with the glow of torches and gatekeepers, but Gandalf slew many and Thorin slew more and the company rushed out of the abominable caves to leave them far behind. Bright sunshine greeted them with warm twinkling and a clean, fresh air filled their lungs at once.

"Mahal, we live, we live!" cheered the dwarves, but Gandalf granted no reprieve. On and on he chased them until they reached a good place in the sun between the trees where they all sat down to rejoice and let the warm wind refresh their spirits.

A quick headcount sobered their cheeriness up quite fast, though. Because one was missing and that one was Bilbo. At once, Gandalf began to scold and chide and demand for them to go back into the tunnels to seek for the burglar, but not all of the company were listening.

Apart from the others sat Fíli and Thorin, and nobody dared to come near them for they held Kíli in their midst who was shaking like a dry autumn leaf in a thunderstorm and stammered with trembling voice, looking at his hands that were smeared in goblin blood.

"Shush, little one," whispered Thorin to soothe the boy and gently patted his head. "It is over now. We are all out and safe and no harm will reach us here."

In his rage when one of the beasts had disarmed Thorin before, Kíli had jumped it and bashed its ugly face into the jagged floor. Now he sat in fright for what could have happened to his uncle and to himself and Thorin's heart ached when he took Kíli's face and kissed his forehead in a calming manner before he pulled a knife from his belt and carefully cut the ropes that still bound the young dwarf's wrists. Deep and red bruises were branded into the white skin beneath. Thorin wished he had water to clean the wounds, but all he could do was cut pieces from his fine cloak and wrap them.

Still, something within him was upset at what little help and comfort he could offer and he left Fíli to take care of his brother and let him rest. All the while, Thorin wondered if it had been right to take the children along on this journey, at least the younger of the two.

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

The deeper forest of Mirkwood seemed to suffocate all wholesome creatures. Not a single songbird had Thorin heard all through their march, had not seen one of the black squirrels in the dark trees anymore since the start of their journey, and that made him very gruff and bothered.

No wind reached the path they were treading and even Balin, who had lived longer underground than any other dwarf in their company, had begun to yearn for a gentle breeze or even a storm. So unnervingly still the air was that sometimes they had to stop and collect their wits and talk to eachother or Thorin was sure one of them would have gone running off into the woods and screaming like mad just to hear something other than rustling leaves and breaking sticks under their boots.

Food was scarce now and even scarcer was water. They were all parched with thirst and starved, too, yet when mealtime came, Thorin waved his ration of food away and his share of water as well.

"Give it to the children," he said in a grim voice and with a look at Fíli and Kíli, who tried to keep up cheery faces but even their youthful lightheartedness withered under those cursed trees.

Dwalin grumbled, "I still don't know why we had to bring those lads along. How old are they? Sixty, sixty-five at most?"

Thorin gave him a sharp look, but with Dwalin this had no further impact than a dismissive snort. For too long had they traveled together and too many times had they held council for Dwalin to subdue himself to only a bitter glance.

"Fíli is eighty-two and Kíli is seventy-seven. That makes them no less fighters than you and me. I have yet to see you split a goblin's head with bare hands that are bound with rope at that," said Thorin.

"Then what is the reason that we are being treated as kids here?" a voice behind him asked and there they stood, burning with outrage. Kíli held Thorin's own golden cup and Fíli the food that was meant for their leader and both looked very angry.

"If you deem us warriors, why handle us like useless little children?" Kíli asked. "You should have left us both at home if that is all you see in us. We need not more food and drink than any of you and we have not come along just to make our provisions last a few days less."

He thrust the cup into Fíli's hand and slipped away into the shadows alone. His brother looked after him with a sigh, then he handed the plate and cup to Thorin, who took it and lowered his head.

"He is very angry at you when you treat him this way," said Fíli and sat down by Dwalin's other side with his own share of food and water.

Thorin looked at his plate for a long time, then he put it onto the stone where he had rested until now and stood to follow his nephew. Away from the fire they had kindled to roast their last bit of meat, Kíli sat on a broad log and sharpened his knife. When he sensed Thorin behind him, he stopped for a moment but then continued without sparing so much as a glance at his uncle.

"Kíli," the great dwarf said in a voice reserved only for his youngest nephew, tender and loving as he spoke to nobody else.

"If you are here to tell me that you're sorry you can save your breath, Thorin. I do not want an apology."

"And I am not here to give one."

That did make Kíli raise his head. His body was tense as a drawn bowstring, but he allowed Thorin to sit beside him on the log and take the knife to test its blade. He nodded in approval. The edge burned sharply against his palm.

"Then what do you want?" Kíli asked at last when the silence became intolerable. "Just tell me and leave me alone again. I don't want to speak to you right now."

Thorin did not answer right away. Instead, he raised one hand and gently grasped Kíli's long, dark hair, turned his head towards him and laid his forehead against the one of his nephew. They sat like that for a long time and their eyes closed, their breath evened and their heartbeats fell into a slow, matching rhythm.

Then, Thorin softly muttered, "I am not sorry for what I have said earlier. You and your brother, you are dearest to me even before all gold and gems we could ever find in the Lonely Mountain. Forgive me for loving you both as my own sons."

A hand was thrust with force against his chest and Kíli jumped to his feet. Thorin could do nothing but watch him flee back into the glow of the fire where he sat down by Bilbo and Ori and Balin, who clapped his shoulder and laughed.

Why oh why, Thorin wondered and looked down at the knife in his hand and the thin line of blood on its silver blade, had he been so stupid as to speak to his nephew like that?

Kíli deserved better.

✴ ✴ ✴

For how long he had yet sat in the dark of his little room, Thorin did not know. Only a thin gleam of light fell in from the hallway outside where lamps were burning day and night – not that Thorin knew which it was at any time. With nothing to do and nobody to talk to, he paced in his cell and wished and yearned at least for one of his companions so to have a chat.

The guards that brought his food rarely spoke and when they did, they talked in their Elven tongue that Thorin could not and did not wish to understand. He'd come to hate the noise of their fair silver voices that tittered and sang as they pranced along the halls to deliver his meals.

Until one day, the guard unlocked the door, set down a tray of food and drink and said with a merry laugh, "He has brought many friends into our woods, hasn't he, our silent Master Dwarf?"

Friends! That could only mean his company, Thorin thought with longing and fright for they had been his only hope of escape. And for the first time since his imprisonment, he spoke to the guard.

"My nephews, are they with them? Two boys, not yet men in your eyes, one with golden hair and one with dark, carrying a bow," Thorin said desperately.

Whether or not they would use Kíli and Fíli to make him answer the elf king's questions, he needed to know the two of them safe and sound or he would never again rest easy. The elf thought and spoke to another guard who sat on a stool just before Thorin's cell in their own tongue before he turned to him again.

"Yes, such dwarves have we found in the group that was captured. Nephews, you say?"

So Thorin knew that he had doomed himself and maybe both of his sister-sons to torture and a terrible fate. Hurriedly, the elf locked his door and went back the way he came, most likely to inform the king and the guard remained alone on his post.

"You there!" Thorin called and the fair man lifted his head to look at him with arrogance.

"Do not speak to me as if you were my captain and permitted to give me orders. What do you want, dwarf?"

For a moment, Thorin was so inflamed with fury that he could not answer, but he was speaking for Fíli and Kíli, he thought and gritted his teeth.

"Take me to your king now. I have business with him."

The guard only laughed, but Thorin began to rage and yell within the confining walls of his cell that finally, a message was sent to the king and at last, he was brought before the tall woodland elf with the crown of red berries again who looked most pleased with Thorin's change of heart.

"Now, dwarf?" he asked and stooped with a belittling smile. "What brings you to your senses all of a sudden? Is it your darling nephews wasting away in our darkest cells?"

If the guards had not bound his wrists and held spears at the ready to defend their king, Thorin would have liked to break his neck with bare hands. To think Fíli and Kíli in the hands of wretched elves!

"I have," he said in between clenched jaws and with great exertion to not curse this elvish bastard standing there and smiling at Thorin's misery like a fool, "a proposal. The journey we are on is one rewarded with a great fortune, should we ever reach the end of it. If my company and my nephews are released and brought safely to the edge of this forest, I promise you however many white jewels your halls can hold, and if I have to mine them myself for the rest of my days then so be it. But you must swear on your life to offer Fíli and Kíli safe conduct to a point from where they can find their way."

The king, who loved the white jewels dwarves had often gifted their allies with above all, thought long, but he was a clever and cunning elf and did not want to be fooled.

"There is nothing you can do to assure me my reward in this bargain," he said and waved his hand.

"By Durin's beard!" cried Thorin in anger and stomped his foot. "Isn't a decent dwarf's honest word enough assurance in these days with you elvish people? Cursed be your race and those narrow minds of yours!"

When the king heard him talk like so, he ordered his guards to bring Thorin back to his cell where he continued to bang on the door and condemned all elves of Mirkwood until his throat was sore and he was very tired.

As night fell, Thorin sat on his bench and had touched neither food nor water and only thought of Kíli and Fíli who were most likely apart for the first time in their lives and all alone in those dark cells, not knowing whether they would live or die or see the sun again. Again, Kíli's face came to his mind an how he'd looked at him with tearstricken face that night he had decided to take them on this journey – only for them to end up rotting in elvish prisons.

Kíli deserved better

✴ ✴ ✴

The dragon was slain and all of his company well and safe within Erebor.

For the first time since their departure from Rivendell perhaps, Thorin could breathe freely as he wandered the halls of his forefathers and was blinded by floors and pillars of gold and silver and gems of all kind and immeasurable value. The other dwarves were gladly sitting among themselves and marveling at the riches that surrounded them like a vast ocean.

Often Thorin walked alone and deep into the night, and only his nephews, for they were both young and needed little sleep compared to the others, stayed up and passed time by playing cards and humming songs to wait upon Thorin when he returned and had dinner all by himself.

Already before the ravens began to arrive with news of the coming of elves and the men of Laketown, Bilbo and Balin looked upon their leader with concern. At times, Thorin seemed almost mad when he strolled along his sea of coins and gemstones, muttering to himself. He had Nori, Dori and Ori write records of all treasures they had found in Smaug's nest and the deeper chambers that had been too small for the dragon to reach and it took books upon books only to file what riches lay on the throne room.

One evening they – namely Bilbo, Balin, Dwalin, Bombur, Kíli and Fíli – sat by the great wall and let their legs dangle over the edge. On their many adventurous expeditions deep into the mountain, the two youngest had discovered a stash of pipeweed and now the older dwarves and the hobbit enjoyed a good smoke after their dinner to wash away the taste of cram.

"I begin to be quite worried about our good old Thorin," Dwalin mumbled despite Balin's warning nod towards Kíli and Fíli. "If he does not get out of Erebor for some fresh air to clear his thoughts, I fear he might fall under. Already he is showing signs."

"Signs of what, if I have permission to ask?" said Bilbo rather politely and blew out a pretty little ring of smoke.

Bombur was still nibbling on his share of food and pointed behind himself with a grumble. "Dragonsickness, my lad. Have you not seen how obsessed he is with every little coin? Only yesterday he screamed at Balin like a madman when he took a handful of old gems to just look at them and maybe see from which age they are. He's becoming insane, yes. Treasure on which a dragon has slept on for so long burdens the heart of many dwarves when they get hold of it."

Bilbo sat in silence and so did everyone else for a while, then the hobbit cleared his throat to speak. "Can nothing be done about it?" he asked and it showed in his face that he was greatly troubled, for he was a gentle little soul and he looked at Thorin as a friend.

"Nay," grunted Dwalin with his pipe between his teeth. "If you try to take him away from his treasure now, he will chop off your head and gut you. If he is strong enough to withstand, he will come to his senses on his own or he succumbs to the curse and nothing and nobody can rescue him any longer."

They all stared into the valley below, gloomy and miserable, but then Fíli jumped up with hardened face.

"I want to be King under the Mountain one day, yes, but I do not want to earn that title by slaying my own uncle in his madness," he declared and gripped the gem-studded sword he had taken from the weaponry chambers and tied to his belt. "If I talk to him, maybe I can bring back what sense he lost already."

And off he went, to everyone's alarm and to Kíli's horror.

"Fíli!" he cried and jumped to follow his brother. "Fíli, wait! He will not understand, he may think you wish to threaten his reign! Don't go! Think, Fíli, I beg of you! He might attack you!"

"Then so be it!"

With great determination, the older of the brothers marched into the throne room. Thorin was once again wandering in search of the Arkenstone, counting coins in his hands and gazing at the precious gems in his palms when Fíli entered.

"Thorin!" he called out in a loud voice and Bilbo, who had followed him alongside the others, could not help but notice how much it sounded like his uncle's own voice. "The dragon gold is messing with your mind and heart. You need to take your thoughts off of it or I fear it will end badly for you!"

Fíli's words were like thunder from the mountain and for the briefest of moments, Bilbo thought to see something like terrified awareness flash across Thorin's face and in his eyes. Then it was over and Kíli had grasped his brother's hand to pull him back.

"Stop it! You will only make it worse, leave him be! We will find a way, I promise! I'm just as worried and despairing as the lot of you, but this is not the way to do it!" he cried, and to Thorin he said, "He doesn't mean it, forgive him! Come now, Fíli!"

But the words had been spoken and the seed of mistrust planted in Thorin's heart and there it blossomed brightly and flourished under the dragonsickness and the glow of the gold all around him.

That night, he sat on his own by the table with only Kíli to keep him company, for Fíli refused to join them and Thorin would not have allowed him. Instead, he talked softly to his youngest nephew and stroked his hair and when the time came to rest, he laid Kíli's bedding up on the pedestal where the throne stood and where he had his own blankets and pillows.

They slept arm in arm, sharing their bedsheets, and Kíli hid his face against Thorin's chest for the entirety of the night and did not move away even as morning came and the others were getting up. For a short while, it seemed almost as if things were going back to normal. Thorin rose and clad himself in his gear and he even sat with the others for breakfast, he joked and laughed with everyone but Fíli who sat miserably by Bilbo's side and would not touch his food or water.

That and the days that followed after, the brothers who had been inseparable for the whole journey drifted apart as far as they had ever been.

Thorin took Kíli with him on his walks, whispering in a quiet and most gentle voice to him, they ate side by side and slept in a mess of entangled limbs and under one blanket. This frightened the dwarves greatly, for one time Bofur had gone to wake the two of them at noon when they had not gotten up yet and the very moment he had laid his hand on Kíli's shoulder to shake him, Thorin's eyes had opened and he had snarled like a wild animal. The next night, he slept with a knife just next to his pillow and nobody dared to try and rouse them any longer when Kíli slept and Thorin watched over him.

While the dragon spell made their leader most vigilant and watchful, it had just the opposite impact on Kíli. He began to sleep more and spend his days curled up in the beddings, watching his uncle wander the hall and laid his head in Thorin's lap whenever the great dwarf sat by his side and spoke to him.

He searched for the finest and loveliest jewelry in all of the treasure and presented it to Kíli with purrs as soft as the ones of a cat looking upon its dearest kitten. Gem-encrusted armlets, white bangles fashioned like winding snakes, rings and delicate necklaces and silver ornaments for Kíli's dark hair soon were piled all around their beds.

Sour and grim, the other members of the company watched the change fall upon the king and his youngest heir, but neither of them was allowed close to Kíli at all times or Thorin would throw a fit and yell and send them all out to keep unreasonable watch for the elves and men that now besieged the mountain.

Especially Bilbo was very afraid of this new Thorin, one so angry and dark that it shivered him down to the bones. None of his friends knew it and he did not talk about it, but sometimes when Thorin kept watch over his sleeping nephew or when he had found an exceptionally beautiful new piece of jewelry for Kíli and made him try it on, his gaze could have well been the one of Smaug looking upon his treasure.

"Can dwarves turn into dragons?" he asked Balin one day with shy voice as they sat by the wall to escape one of Thorin's rampages.

The glance he got in response was a sad one and the old dwarf did not answer, but the roar that came from the inside of the mountain made Bilbo feel hotter than any dragon fire.

Thorin Oakenshield though was content after even the last of his company had scrambled outside and he sat back down by the side of his sleeping nephew. In his hands he held a small clasp for Kíli's cloak. He had adjusted it himself to make it fit better and now he only had to wait until his precious treasure woke up to gift it to him.

Nothing had Thorin been able to offer to this boy other than danger, thirst, hunger and distress while he'd left the safety of his home and his mother to follow him on an impossible quest. Now he had a whole hall of gold and gems and he would make sure to pay his debt.

Finally, Thorin could give Kíli all that he deserved and so much more.

✴ ✴ ✴

So exhausted and forlorn looked Fíli in his battle armor as he stood before Thorin that the usual growl and demand to stay away were lost on him entirely. He even threw his sword into the mountain of gold.

"Thorin, Dáin and his men are overrun. The goblins are taking over. If you don't follow us, we will go on our own to join the battle."

The king looked at him and bared his white teeth. His hand was resting upon Kíli's hair, stroking it and smoothing it. Pale was the young dwarf, and his breath came slow and heavy.

"Go then to your doom. I do not wish to stop you, traitor, backstabber! Take the rotten horde and fare with it as you will. Eleven more or less makes no difference," he said.

"But seeing their king makes one!" cried out Fíli and fell to his knees. "Thorin Oakenshield, before you stands your nephew whom you named Fíli wolf-slayer, your heir and most loyal servant and he begs you to come to your senses! Don't you see that you're sick? The halls are filled with the air of a dragon and you've been here too long without as much of a fresh breeze, and in your madness you do not even see that Kíli is ill too! He suffers from the dragonsickness as much as you do, but his mind is weaker than yours and he will die in those piles of gold and silver if you don't help him fight it!"

It was as if a shadow fell from Thorin's face and for the first time in a long while, his eyes appeared bright and strong again. With shaking hands, he rose to his feet and looked at Fíli before he took his face as if he feared it would shatter like fine glass.

"I see you clearly now," he said as if in wonder. "All this time my mind led me to believe you would betray me, Fíli sister-son, and I mistook your help and friendship as threat. Forgive me, my brave warrior, forgive me for all I have said and done. I want to atone for my wrongdoing and I shall join the battle. No longer can we keep Dáin waiting. But tell me, Fíli, will the others follow me if I bid them to?"

With tears streaming down his face, Fíli fell into his uncle's arms and there he was held steady and safe and warm.

"Not one of them will remain behind. We stand loyal to our king. But call them to arms now, and help me to bring Kíli out into the fresh air. It will restore his strength and maybe we can bring him to battle with us."

✴ ✴ ✴

So this was the end, Thorin thought and looked up at the sky where the eagles came from the shadow of the mountains.

By his side lay Fíli and Kíli, and both had spread their arms and heads on his chest to shield him from any arrows or spears or swords. A thin trickle of blood seeped from Kíli's mouth and it wouldn't stop and Fíli's beard and golden hair were stained with red.

Around them in a great circle were piled hoards of goblin cadavers and many a warg and wolf captain. From afar, Thorin thought he heard a roar like from a big animal, but his strength did not last for him to look up. Instead, he laid his hands upon the heads of his nephews and closed his eyes.

"I'm scared, Uncle," Fíli said in a weak voice and Kíli squeezed his hand tighter.

"Fear not, Fíli wolf-slayer," Thorin answered, "and fear not, Kíli goblin-slayer. The forefathers will welcome you into their halls as heroes. And I will soon join you and we shall sit side by side like we were meant to. Oh, it is my fault that our last days have not been merrier. My greed for gold brought nothing but misfortune over us at last. You should have been Kings under the Mountain, both of you, and lived your lives as cheerful as our race once has been in these parts."

So he spoke and his voice calmed the dying dwarves greatly. Already they could not keep their eyes open and Fíli smiled at Kíli.

"Farewell, little brother. We shall meet again," whispered he and Kíli answered, "Farewell, brother" and so the breathed their last breath and Thorin felt tears, hot and burning, on his face, but no matter how tight he held them or how often and how long he called their names and how much he wept, they did not answer. Their good and faithful souls had been taken into the great halls of Durin's folk already.

When Thorin was picked up by large paws, his tears had dried, but his grief remained and only the forthcoming of his own death brought relief upon his heart.

It was what he deserved.

**Author's Note:**

> I am literal trash and I'm so so sorry for dumping this on all of you, but I've been going through an awful Hobbit phase again and I love Thorin and Family so much don't @ me (╥﹏╥)
> 
> Also in case some are wondering: I used an (un)healthy mix of books and movies as guidelines so forgive eventual inconsistencies, I have no beta reader and no desire to go search for one. I write ugly little sentences with gremlin hands now deal with it.
> 
> In general I just wanted Thorin and Kíli especially to have some good bonding time (hell yeah I would want to spend time with my stuck-up royal uncle too for sure if I had one!) while also guilt-tripping Thorin some for bringing a barely of-age guy on a life-threatening battle trip (｢`･ω･)｢
> 
> Anyway, thanks a bunch for reading! (⺣◡⺣)❤️* I appreciate it greatly that you have taken the time out of your day to do so! ❤ (ɔˆз(ˆ⌣ˆc)
> 
> Love,  
> Webster


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